


KINKTOBER 14 | Hate Sex | Spike Spiegel x Reader

by tsurakofuku



Series: Kinktober 2020 [14]
Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Choking, Cowgirl Position, Doggy Style, F/M, Hate Sex, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Lemon, One Shot, PWP, Self-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27011299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurakofuku/pseuds/tsurakofuku
Summary: Day 14: Hate Sex. A self-insert fem!Reader one-shot featuring Spike Spiegel. I DO NOT OWN SPIKE SPIEGEL OR COWBOY BEBOP. For mature readers only.
Relationships: Spike Spiegel/Original Female Character, Spike Spiegel/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948153
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113





	KINKTOBER 14 | Hate Sex | Spike Spiegel x Reader

**Author's Note:**

> KINKTOBER 2020 Day 14: Hate Sex. I kind of imagine this as happening right before the events of the show, or right at the beginning – pre-Faye, as much as I love her, let’s explore the possibility that there are reasons Spike and Jet are so reluctant to have a female aboard. Bit of a longer build-up than my usual here but I got really into it. I don’t like writing condoms so there are none, pretend it isn’t an issue however you’d like to.
> 
> Recommended playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3lmiQPbGyj2hjkGmt1l34X

_”This is, by far, the worst – no, the sorriest excuse for a crew I have ever had the misfortune to come across!”_

The words may be childish, but they express your point better than anything you could construct by staying and arguing in the _Bebop_ ’s living room. You turn and storm into the hallway, seething with rage as you make your way to the back barrack you’ve claimed as your own, trying to calm both the anger and embarrassment rising in your lungs and threatening to overflow as tears.

 _At least we’re close to the asteroid. We’re so, so, so close, even if it’s not close enough._ And then you’ll never have to see these two again.

What you don’t expect is for someone to chase after you with as much fuming anger in their body as you, and you scream when Spike Spiegel grabs you by the arm and pushes you against the metal wall of the ship.

“Mother _fucker_ , that hurt,” you snarl.

“Haven’t you don’t enough screaming? For the love of God, can you shut up and listen?” Spike says, his voice low and harsh. “I can’t believe how ungrateful you are. You’re a freeloader out here when Jet and I hardly have provisions for the two of us, you’re extra weight when fuel is already expensive, so I’m _so_ sorry, princess, that you can’t get to your little rendezvous exactly when you wanted to.”

He lets go of your arm, and you rub it, glowering at him.

“Trust me,” Spike says. “We don’t want you on board any longer than you want to be. I also thought we’re be there tonight. But it would also be in everyone’s best interests if you could dispense with the damn drama and _shut up._ Suck it up for a few more hours, princess, we’ll be kicking you to the curb in the morning.” 

“Asshole,” you say, not even hiding it as a whisper.

Spike scoffs. “You have some nerve for complaining about the quality of a service you’re not even paying for, ingrate.”

“What service is that, exactly?” you ask mockingly, letting your voice rise again. You hear yourself getting shrill, hear the echoes ricochet like bullets through the metal corridors, but you keep going. “ _You_ offered me a lift, and it’s not my fault that you were too drunk to remember that when you woke up the next morning and found me aboard, and you and Jet have both treated me like absolute shit since, for no good reason, no reason at all.” 

The edge in your voice almost hits hysteria, as you shake and try to focus on the matter at hand and not the swirling agony spiraling through your mind. Spike doesn’t need to know about the sick old soul dying lonely and cold on that asteroid, the only support you’ve had in your life, the one whose slowly slipping minutes and hours are more precious than any bounty. Or, rather, Spike doesn’t need to know _again,_ because you had told him out on that planet in that bar, your aching necessity.

“So,” you conclude, trying to wrangle your voice back down before Jet came storming in as well, “if there are any _amenities_ and _services_ I’ve missed out on, let me know, because I haven’t seen fuck-all to be grateful for.”

Spike takes a step closer to you, a glower darkening his face, and the fury in your chest makes your heart beat with a fire that heats every nerve in your body. You lean towards him, fists balled against the cold metal wall, mouth parted and ready to scream at him again. He raises his left hand again, and you match him, raising your own.

But when you collapse into each other, the violence meets at your mouths. His hand crashes into the wall behind you, symbolically pinning you in place just as you reach up to his mess of hair and pull him close to you with a ferocity your words couldn’t express. His kiss is hard, his face moving against yours so sharply you have no choice but to follow his lead for fear of clashing your teeth into his. Spike grunts into your mouth and you twist your hand sharply in response. He bites, not softly, on your lower lip, and you just twist his hair harder, pulling him into you.

 _Fuck_ , you were angry.

Spike pushes against you, backing into the wall, and you feel his cock pushing against his pant leg to your thigh. You move your right hand down, skimming your fingers over the bulge. It begins to harden under your touch, and you teasingly stroke back and forth. Spike breaks the kiss. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for, princess?”

His hand travels up your jaw and under your ear, cupping the back of your head and breathing jaggedly. Your mouth tastes like cigarettes in his absence, and you grimace, first at the ash and then at his words.

“You started it,” you say. “Or do you just invite anybody aboard when you’re blacked out in the back of the bar?”

“I never invite anyone,” Spike says, his insistence as strong as it was the morning you’d appeared in the ship to his and Jet’s surprise. The two of you scowl for a moment, holding each other by the head, your hand tense, dangerously over his cock. But your hand is still moving back and forth on him, and with a shuddering sigh, Spike pulls you back to his mouth.

His tongue forces its way past your lips as you part for him, ready to fight for territory as well as your tongue slips past his. You let go of your grip on his hair and fully stagger into the wall, tugging him by the belt of his pants. Fumbling, your hands shaking with the coursing adrenaline, you unbuckle his pants and force them to the ground, tearing yourself from his hold to follow them down.

Spike’s cock stands full and ready, and you slide it quickly into your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to gag as he immediately hits the back of your throat. Spike responds loudly, his hands clapping around the back of your head to keep you in place, your tongue struggling for any agency. You flatten your tongue and try to drop your jaw as much as possible, licking lightly and stroking against the underside of his cock as he guides it in and out of your mouth. You place your hands on his thighs for balance, moving your left hand up to the base of his cock to wrap your fingers around and pump at the same tempo your mouth is forced to be. Spike’s grunts grow shaky as they rise over you. 

Tears begin to prick from your closed eyes, nose beginning to run and drool slipping from the sides of your mouth as he guides your head faster and faster over his cock. He grows harder, your hand getting slippery as you work him in and out of you at his impatient, incessant pace. Your throat begins to close and his groan turns into a cry, the fingers at the back of your head knotting firmly against your hair, almost threatening to pull it from the roots. You moan, trying desperately to breathe but forgetting how to tell your body to do so.

You run your tongue over his cock, feeling a particularly prominent, rising hardness begin to stand, and you drop your aching hand back to his leg for balance. Spike’s cry gets almost guttural, his hands hard as he suddenly crushes your head against him, so hard your face almost fully hits his groin. His thighs shake beneath your legs, and you push your hands into him in response. He comes suddenly, thick and bitter, his hands keeping you hostage to swallow it all.

As you rise, blinking and angrily wiping at your mouth, Spike kicks off his pants. He grabs you by the arm again and starts moving the two of you towards a side door in the wall, kicking it open and slamming it shut behind you. Dust mites rise in the sudden disturbed darkness. It’s a bedroom, a lonely, dingy one at that, somehow looking more lived in yet colder than the barrack you’ve taken. He shrugs his jacket off and turns his attention to your shirt. You let him pull it from your body and fumble for your own bra clasp with ease, knocking away his hands which turn to your own pants.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you never come crawling on board the _Bebop_ again,” Spike says. You wrestle with the buttons of his dress shirt, and look up to scowl at him.

“That’s the worst threat I’ve heard in my life,” you say, throwing his shirt off before pulling him back in for another harsh kiss. He almost laughs into your mouth, and somehow it makes you angrier, your ears burning and blood roaring through you. The two of you barely make it to the bed. The last of your clothes kicked to the floor, a chaotic bread trail of half-zipped pants and a button somehow ripped loose and rolling in the dark corners. 

Spike pushes you down, mouth still hungry, kisses wet and fast, but you wrestle over to crouch on top of him. You hear yourself gasping for breath as you break the kiss, hearing your own pulse reverberate through your eardrums. Spike’s eyes fix on you, his pale chest rising and falling below you as you find your balance over him. Shifting your weight slightly, you move your hand to the inside of his thigh, gripping tightly and pushing him down into the bed, hand brushing against his cock. He may have just came, but you feel him stiffen against your touch, and you begin to lightly stroke him, teasingly. 

He bucks his hips up in response, and you feel your body roar again, that angry need within you finding a forceful center at the base of your stomach, the heat flooding down to your pussy and making you shake as you position yourself over him. You look up and meet his eyes. For the first time, you notice that one is a slightly different shade of brown than the other. But they’re both unreadable, fathomless flat pools of darkness and indifference. 

You hate to see them, and you look down to your own shaking hand braced against his waist as you lower yourself onto Spike. He lets out a sound that could have been words but simply turn into a groan. When you look up again, finding your rhythm, his eyes are closed, face relaxed in complete bliss as you ride his cock.

Spike’s cock feels almost painfully full inside you, so suddenly aching and strong that it shouldn’t be possible that you didn’t choke when it was shoved down your throat. You keep your balance on his hip as you ride him, leaning slightly back to rest your other hand besides his leg. His hand finds your wrist and locks on, the grip strong and unloving as you slam your body onto his. 

“ _Fuck, fuck,_ ” you pant out, the electricity shooting throughout your body and driving you forward, rocking your hips in fast clumsy circles. 

“ _Goddammit,_ ” Spike moans in agreement. 

You feel yourself grow wetter and wetter, pussy slick as he slides in and out of you with each of your motions. He begins to rock his hips too, and that point of connection strikes so deep to your core it almost feels like a punch to the stomach that keeps you moving. You let go of his waist and let your rhythm falter when reach down to your clit, rubbing it and pushing your hips forward as the pleasure soars through you.

“Too – slow,” Spike says, his voice jagged and tight. The hand on your wrist squeezes and suddenly his elbow is bending, your body is falling, and he’s guided you onto your back. You let out a sound of indignation that becomes a whine when his cock accidently slips out of your pussy. He crouches over you, those terribly unreadable eyes open and pinning you into place on your back. 

“Come on,” you say breathlessly. He pushes his knee between your legs, leaning forward as you rock your needy hips up to find him. Spike guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, and lets out a hiss as he pushes it in. You buck your hips, trying to get him closer to you, but he only moves the tip in and out, shallowly, gathering his breath.

“I hate you,” Spike groaned, “but, _fuck_ you’re tight.”

“Just shut _up_ ,” you say, shooting his words back at him. 

You could say more, but he slams into you with such force it almost knocks your breath away. You part your lips and moan, completely at his mercy for a moment as you melt into the bed, feeling his cock pound into you, your arms thrown around his shoulders. Spike thrusts, a growl slipping from his lips, and as he fucks you harder, your hands trail down his broad back, nails scraping. When you reach the small of his back, you dig your nails in, letting out a wail as he hits somewhere deep in your core that sends fire flooding through your body. 

“Shut – up? Princess, I think that’s my line,” Spike groans, his cool demeanor failing through the strain of pleasure he’s fighting to keep out of his voice. 

Fuck his pleasure. You don’t want to hear him anymore, see his glassy eyes. You moan louder, trying to drown out the incessant sound of his own groaning, closing your eyes and focusing on focusing on nothing. Just feeling each quick stroke, in and out, in and out, as Spike fucks you. 

He squirms under your grip and leans back, the new angle pushing himself so far into you that you let out a louder scream than you thought you would but - _shit, fuck_ \- it suddenly feels so good within you that all you can do is thrash and yell the pleasure that he’s bringing throughout your body.

Spike reaches down and pushes his hand to your neck, not enough to fully choke you, but you lean your head back and reach into it as he fucks you harder. “Yes, yes,” you hear yourself say, and Spike squeezes, once, and then again, harder. For a fleeing flash, he is all you can feel, the strong slender grip binding ribbons across your throat, his cock pounding relentlessly into you. He relaxes his hand, and you cough. 

“More,” you say, the word almost slurring as it falls from you.

Spike cries out, and you think you hear your own name, or maybe someone else’s name, but your senses are suddenly dulled static black as he squeezes again. He’s thrusting in so deeply that even if you could move your hips it would make no difference, the sensation of him bottoming out and almost ripping through your cervix so pleasurably strong that all you can do is flex your muscles and writhe in response. In the darkness of the room, everything is grainy black, your blood is on fire, your orgasm rips closer and closer. The hatred that pours out of this man in anguish connects to the seething rage in you, as your bodies meet in gratifying violence. 

He lets go, and you cough again as that black recedes. He fills your eyes again and you groan in displeasure. “Get up,” he says, pulling out of you again, but fingers replacing his cock to rub clumsily into your pussy. You groan again, uncomfortably sore at his rough prodding, but rocking your hips up to meet it, the aching sudden emptiness needing _something_.

“Hand and knees,” Spike says, repeating himself. “Get up, princess.”

You force yourself into a crouch, and Spike is quickly at your back, thrusting himself smoothly into your pussy with ease and much less pretense from before. And somehow, this new position reaches parts of your body you never thought about before, your elbows shaking and back prickling as he rakes his hands across it. He comes down to your ass and slaps both hands down sharply. You scream again, bucking back to meet him. Spike fucks you hard, ruthlessly, as your body fully collapses into an arc. 

“I can feel how wet you are, princess,” Spike says in your ear eventually, forcing his words out. “How tight your little cunt is holding me. You’re close, aren’t you?

You are, yes, you’re painfully close, with every thrust of his cock into you and twist into your hair, but you won’t tell Spike that. You won’t come first. You won’t lose.

You arch your back and moan, trying to force his surrender as you roll your hips back, pushing your ass into his groin. The slapping of his thighs against yours grows louder, sloppier, as the frantic movements of your bodies come agonizingly close to climax. 

Something in the pit of your stomach drops, and you let out another scream, this time into the blankets bunched beneath your forearms. Spike leans forward, hunching over you in a twisted hug, his left hand fumbling across the front of your body down to your pussy to rub on your clit as frantically as his tight thrusts come closer and closer. His right hand, still on your ass, grips tightly as he pushes himself into you. 

“Fuck - _fuck, princess,_ -“ it falls quickly from his mouth mixed with your real name, repeated faster and faster. 

He slams in one last thrust, and you feel a white-hot flash across your body as you realize he’s coming, the cries in your ear harsh and heavy. The feeling of his breath against your skin is disgusting and you lean your head away from the hot moisture against you. It doesn’t slow you, though, and under the pressure of his fingers of your clit and caging your body into the bed, you feel your inner walls flex and contract as the heat of your own orgasm floods your body.

Spike collapses into you, and the two of you lie, knotted on the bed for a moment, breaths coming unevenly between the two of you. Finally, he sits up.

Maybe he says something, but your ears are ringing so loudly that all you can hear is the pounding of your heart. You suddenly become aware of tears leaking out of your eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m – fuck,” you say thickly, not looking at him as you stumble off the bed and peer on the floor, busy hunting for your clothes. Out of the corner of your eye you see Spike offer you your sock, and you grab it without a word. You don’t look at him the entire time you get dressed, don’t answer any of his half-comments, letting hair fall in front of your face and eyes locked on the ground. 

When you open the door, you see his abandoned pants outside, and turn to throw them into the room.

“I – I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, accidentally catching his eye as you close the door behind you again. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but it looked almost like he was crying too.

It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow, finally, finally, you’ll be home. And Spike will be – wherever the hell he is.

***

Early the next morning, Jet lurches the _Bebop_ away from the asteroid, and Spike refuses to look out the window at the figure making their way out of the hangar. 

“Had a temper, didn’t she,” Jet muses as he sips coffee, punching buttons to set the autopilot course. “I heard her screaming pretty late.”

“Guess it was important to get out here,” Spike says with a shrug, keeping his eyes trained on the magazine he snagged from outside the barista stall. 

“Unhealthy to keep that kind of stuff pent up,” Jet says, and it’s hard to tell what kind of tone he has. Spike refuses to answer, still scanning the glossy text for nothing in particular. He feels Jet’s gaze turn to him, and he eventually just lets out a noncommittal _hmmm_ as he turns the pages. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Jet says finally as the _Bebop_ begins its ascent into the atmosphere. “If this is how all broads act in space, I don’t want any of them on here again. Not even for a quick trip like this. We aren’t a shuttle bus. Got it, Spike?”

Spike stands, dropping the magazine and hunting in his suit pockets for a cigarette. “Don’t need to tell me twice,” he says, clapping a hand on Jet’s shoulder as he makes his way out to the galley to smoke.

If he had kept his hand a little longer, Jet might have been able to feel how hard he was shaking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It’s unusual for me to put a follow-up note that isn’t in the Reader’s POV, but I wanted to wrap this up a little nicer and kind of strongly hint that there’s Julia angst without actually saying her name. I really love Cowboy Bebop so I mighth ave overthought it all but I had so much fun with this, so I hope you did too... even though it’s longer than usual. Well, see you tomorrow :) *IF YOU WANT TO MAKE A REQUEST: See the Google Form in my linktree or / DM me on Twitter @ TsuraKofuku *


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